


Firewhiskey, Drinking Games, and Resultant Revelations

by Mohini



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mohini/pseuds/Mohini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eighth years. That’s what they are calling all of us who are back in this castle to masquerade as carefree students. We’re all here pretending the last few years never happened. Some of us are trying to delude ourselves into thinking that everything is normal. We race between classes, pick on first years, laugh at exploded cauldrons in potions and murderous plants in herbology. Nothing to see here, nothing unusual at all. I wonder if any of us are fooling anyone, much less ourselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firewhiskey, Drinking Games, and Resultant Revelations

                Eighth years. That’s what they are calling all of us who are back in this castle to masquerade as carefree students. We’re all here pretending the last few years never happened. Some of us are trying to delude ourselves into thinking that everything is normal. We race between classes, pick on first years, laugh at exploded cauldrons in potions and murderous plants in herbology. Nothing to see here, nothing unusual at all. I wonder if any of us are fooling anyone, much less ourselves.

                We have been back at school for two months now. The eighth years are being housed in our own dormitory, in the interest of breaking down the walls between our houses. It’s working better for some of us than for others. Pansy, tiny, fragile Pansy, who made the mistake of calling for the rest of the school to turn over Potter at the final battle took a lot of pretty nasty abuse at first. Then an unlikely hero stepped in for her. No one present in the Great Hall is likely to forget Hermione Granger stepping between Pansy and a half dozen Ravenclaws before hexing them senseless and wrapping her arms protectively around Pansy. “No one touches her again. Try it and answer to me,” she had said, very calmly, as though there were not six unconscious students in her wake.

                Blaise Zabini, beautiful, enigmatic, and somehow neutral throughout the war despite being in Slytherin, has found his match in Padma Patil. The girl matches him point for point on intelligence, beauty, and sheer social mastery. I glance across the common room to see them deep in conversation, their shoulders touching as they speak in a language most of us cannot understand. Zabini, it turns out, speaks Hindi thanks to one of Mrs. Zabini’s late husbands. They rarely converse in English around the rest of us anymore and Padma’s twin, Parvati, refuses to translate.

                Some of us still huddle in our separate corners, comfortable only among our old housemates. Perhaps not even then, but we can fake it better this way. Weasley, Finnigan, and Thomas keep themselves carefully separate. Goyle, Bulstrode, and I do the same. Potter somehow is a part of all of the groups, moving effortlessly from circle to circle. A summer spent rebuilding the school created finely sculpted musculature on his already fit body. He is watched wherever he goes, and somehow seems oblivious to the attention he garners.

                As for me, I know I am not wanted. The only one of my peers to have actually taken the Mark, I am here under probation. The Headmistress has made it clear that any infraction can send me off to Azkaban. Oddly, it was Potter’s testimony that kept me free in the first place. I find him watching me sometimes, and a couple of times I have seen people approaching me in the halls, ready to attack and watched as a c _onfundus_ charm or similar defense is leveled their way by a quiet voice. Harry rarely remembers to even raise his wand these days. He doesn’t need it, and so he forgets to keep up appearances.

                I am startled out of my reverie by the appearance of Seamus Finnigan and two large crates of alcohol. He begins unloading bottles onto one of the study tables. Then Pansy and Hermione are standing, hands clasped together. Hermione’s clear voice rings out through the common room. “I think it’s time we celebrate not killing each other off for the last two months of school. In the interest of further ‘unity’ Pansy and I have set up a little game. A lot of us have more in common than we could know. If you are interested in finding those connections, come join us. I’ll be creating a binding circle, so once you’re in, your secrets are safe. Some of you probably know how good Pansy is at memory charms, so anyone who wishes to forget at the end of the night is welcome to avail themselves of her services. So, my friends, who wants to join us?”

                A veritable herd of Hufflepuffs hit the stairs, heading away from the party as fast as they can. Parvati leaves as well, but the rest of the Gryffindors stay. Terry Boot and Padma are the only Ravenclaws who remain behind. I stand and move toward the tables, Goyle following me as Millicent takes to the stairs. Theodore Nott joins us as well. Once everyone has settled onto the carpet in a circle, Hermione pulls out her wand and casts the protective enchantments, shielding our conversations from anyone outside the circle. Then she sends around shot glasses, and bottles of firewhiskey and mead.

                “Okay, this will be a bit of a play on a muggle game called ‘Never Have I Ever.’ Basically, I will pull a card and those of us who have done what the card says must drink. The actions span from cheating on a test to casting _Avada Kedavra_ , so let this be your final warning. If you want out, go now.” Pansy was staring at me as she spoke, and I found it very difficult to meet her eyes. “And since some of us are very fine actors indeed, your alcohol has been spiked with an honesty serum. Just so you know. Hermione tells me that Muggle therapists believe that denial harms the psyche. This is as good a time as any for us to get out of Egypt.”

                Most of us rolled our eyes at her feeble attempt at a joke. I knew there were a good many things I definitely did not want anyone else to know. But the little bit of pride I had remaining would not allow me to back out now. I accepted the first shot of firewhiskey, wincing a little at the burn. Pansy smiled serenely at me as she knocked hers back without so much as flinching. Hermione did the same, before sliding her arm around Pansy and kissing her. Who would have thought that girl could drink?

                Pansy removed the first card from the pile and looked around at us. “Never have I ever broken curfew.” Groans rang out around the circle as each and every one of us took a shot. Hermione pulled out the next card. “Never have I ever been thrown out of the library by Madame Pince.” She laughed as everyone but herself took a shot. The pile of cards moved on to Neville. “Never have I ever gotten lost in the Forbidden Forest.” About half the circle drank, several of us laughing at the memories of our classmates taking the occasional wrong turn during Care of Magical Creatures and having to be hunted down by the gamekeeper. It was becoming clear that the beginning of the game had been rigged to get as many people tipsy as possible. The cards continued in this vein for a while, including those who had served detention with Snape, written lines for Umbridge, skived off class, etc.

                Then the pile of cards was in front of Blaise, who looked at his and blanched. “Never have I ever had sex with someone of the same gender.” Well, that brought a halt to all the silliness in a hurry. Eight people picked up their shot glasses.  Neville, myself, Hermione, Pansy, Blaise, Dean, Seamus, and, well, that was interesting.  Harry Potter was knocking back a shot, laughing as he put his glass back on the floor. “Hermione, remind me when I’m sober to get back at you for this,” he said, smiling. She simply looked at him, shrugged her shoulders and took her shot. “Harry, you’re halfway to Narnia in that damn closet of yours. Someone had to drag you back.” The Muggle-borns in the circle began giggling, and she explained to the rest of us about the C.S. Lewis reference.

                Harry retrieved the cards from Blaise and smirked a moment before reading the one he pulled from the pile. “Never have I ever dueled Bellatrix Lestrange.” He took his shot and looked around. I knocked mine back, watched Hermione do the same, and then, watched in awe as Neville took a shot as well. He handed the cards to Terry Boot, who pulled one from the top of the pile and read in his deep baritone, “Never have I ever watched someone I love die.” The circle grew quiet, a few people wiping at tears. I lifted my glass, looking around. My mother, my beautiful, brave mother had swallowed a phial of poison two days before I left for school. When I found her in her chambers it was too late. I had held her in my arms as she breathed her last, had watched her blue eyes fade. Harry drank, and I wondered who he was thinking of. Hermione had Pansy in her arms, her hand clutched in Pansy’s white knuckled grip. I knew that Pansy was thinking of her little sister, born a squib and murdered by their own father. Neville was supporting Ron Weasley with an arm around his shoulders. I remembered that one of Ron’s brothers had died in the final battle. When we had all regained some degree of control, Ron picked up a card.

                “Never have I ever been beaten as a child.” The words hung heavy in the room. I stared down at my shot, beginning to regret my participation. I felt the pull of the truth serum, and found myself lifting the glass to my lips, my hand shaking slightly. I hazarded a glance around the room. Similarly trembling glasses were being raised by Theo Nott, Pansy, Padma, Goyle, and amazingly, Potter. I looked at him carefully, our eyes meeting for the briefest of moments. I could practically feel the shame there. Still staring into his eyes, I swallowed the liquor, coughing as it burned down my throat. Pansy was now settled in Hermione’s lap, circled in her arms as her eyes were becoming increasingly blank and glassy. Hermione was rubbing her forearms, keeping constant contact. With a bit of a shock, I realized that she was maintaining a silent calming charm. A part of myself that I didn’t much want to admit existed longed for someone to do the same for me.

                Padma was the next to retrieve a card from the pile. She looked around at us all before speaking. “Never have I ever performed an Unforgiveable Curse.” All of the former Slytherins raised their glasses to their lips, and I watched, barely believing, as each and every one of the Gryffindors did the same. Hermione saw me looking, and spoke softly. “Rabastan Lestrange. He was advancing on Ginny. I killed him before he could cast _Avada Kedavra_ on her.”

                Neville was the next to speak. “Rudolfus, for my parents.” Pansy looked up into Hermione’s eyes before speaking, her voice shaking.

                “I killed my father, when he found me towards the end of the battle. We all thought Potter was dead, and if they won… I couldn’t do it anymore. I’m sorry I lied, Draco. You were right. It was me.” She looked down at the floor, and I crawled across the circle to wrap her in my arms, holding her close and whispering comfort in her ears. I had seen her running from the courtyard where the fighting had been heavy. She wasn’t supposed to even be there, should have fled with the rest of our housemates before things had even begun. I had hidden her in a cupboard, disillusioning the door in hopes of keeping her safe until the battle was over. When her father’s body was among the dead, I had asked her about it. She swore she knew nothing, but was glad none the less. I realized that Granger had her arms around Pansy as well, and she leaned forward to speak to me. “Thank you, for keeping her safe for so long, Draco,” she said. So Pansy had told her about her childhood. I had often kept Pansy with me at the manor under the guise of our impending engagement, in an effort to minimize her contact with her father.

                I returned to my space in the circle, head bowed. Everyone knew that I had participated in Death Eater raids. I had killed Muggles and Muggle-borns alike. It had made me physically ill, but I had done it to stay alive myself. I couldn’t bring myself to really talk about it, just lifted my chin for a moment before saying to the group at large, “You all know what I’ve done. I hope you also know how much I regret it.”

                The deck of cards was passed to me. I read it silently, and then took a deep breath. “Never have I ever had sex against my will.” Silence descended. Pansy knocked back her shot immediately, turning and curling up against Granger, who had also consumed a shot. Seamus took a shot, as did Padma. Looking around the group, I saw Harry staring at me. Our eyes locked as we brought our glasses to our lips simultaneously. Traitorous tears threatened to spill from my eyes, and I blinked frantically. I could feel my entire body beginning to shake. Two years the Dark Lord had lived in Malfoy Manor. He had thought me pretty. No longer human enough to take his own pleasure in sex, he had ordered his Death Eaters to perform the act in front of him. I had the dubious honor of being a favorite choice for his entertainment.  

                I pulled my knees up to my chest, fighting the images that were rapidly crowding to the forefront of my consciousness. MacNair, Avery, Goyle Sr., the Lestrange brothers, even my own father had pinned me to the wall in the Dark Lord’s chambers and ripped me in two. I shook my head, hard, trying to clear the memories, trying to focus on what was actually in front of me. I felt magic surge around me, and then a pair of strong arms were wrapped around me, holding me against a muscular chest. My first instinct was to fight my way free, but it was overruled by an irrational sense of safety with these unexpected arms around me. I blinked to clear away the haze of trapped tears once more and saw that Harry Potter was holding me.

                “Let it go, before you lose it. Just let it go.”

                “Can’t,” I whispered. I knew I wouldn’t be able to calm down if I let the tears out. No one knew.  I had never admitted it to a soul. Now a stupid card game had revealed my worst secret. I was shaking my head, trembling all over from the effort to keep myself in check. Then he placed his hand along my face, cupping my chin in his palm giving me no choice but to look at him.

                “You can. I know what happened to you. I saw it through the connection with Voldemort. It wasn’t your fault. Not one single time. I’ve got you. Just let it go,” and he stared into my eyes, calmly giving me permission to fall to pieces in his arms. I shook my head.

                “Not now. Please. Can’t do this right now,” I whispered. His hand was rubbing my back in soothing circles. A few tears managed to escape, trailing down my cheek, and he wiped them away as quickly as they fell. He continued to hold me, and I could feel a tingling magic seeping into me, soothing me. In what felt like forever but was probably only a few moments, the panic was receding, and my vision began to clear. I looked across the circle to Pansy, and realized that I was now being held in the same protective stance that Hermione had been using for most of the time we had been here.

                I picked up the deck of cards, not moving out of my position against Harry’s chest, and passed them to Goyle. He pulled one from the stack, and shaking his head a bit, read in his oddly childlike voice. “Never have I ever wanted to die.” Silence enveloped us. Hermione drank silently, and beside her, Ron placed a hand at her back. She smiled up at him, something unsaid but comforting passing between them. Padma took her shot, sniffling a bit as Blaise pulled her closer to him. Neville was drinking and looking pointedly at Harry, who raised his glass in salute and downed it quickly. I wrapped my hand around my own glass, and shuddered as the liquid entered my mouth. I barely registered the words as Blaise read the next card.

                “Never have I ever seriously attempted suicide.” Another shot was down my throat, and I felt Harry putting one to his lips as well. Pansy took hers silently, her eyes now completely blank from the force of Hermione’s calming charm. Harry noticed as well.

                “Mione,” he said softly, looking pointedly at her blitzed girlfriend. Granger shook her head, as if trying to clear it, and let out a sigh before removing her hands from Pansy for a moment. It was clear that the charm had been interrupted when tears started streaming down Pansy’s face, and Hermione turned her around in her lap, rocking her gently as she cried. For my part, I drew strength from the arms still circling my body, somehow no longer afraid for people to know that the Slytherin Prince was human too.

                “Never have I ever been this drunk,” Hermione said softly. She pulled her wand from her pocket and held it up. “Nothing said tonight leaves this group. Nothing seen tonight leaves this group. I hope we’ve all learned something about ourselves, about our year mates, and about our futures. Good night to all of you. You will find hangover potions by your beds. Do not skip them. The honesty serum increases the potency of the alcohol and you will seriously regret it in the morning.” She brought the wand around in a couple of complicated looking motions, and the shimmering boundaries of the circle dissolved.  Hermione stood, helping Pansy to her feet and the two girls stumbled toward the dorms. No one was under the delusion that they were going to separate beds.

                I couldn’t seem to convince myself to stand up, and I watched as the rest of the group drifted away. Finally, Harry leaned down and whispered to me, “You can’t stand up, can you?”

                I shook my head. I knew that if I tried I would wind up collapsing. It had been two days since I had last eaten, and the alcohol had hit me hard. “Let me take you to bed?” he asked. I nodded, cheeks flushing with shame. I expected an arm around my waist, a shoulder to lean on as I stumbled up the stairs. What I got was Harry slipping one arm under my knees and one behind my back, tucking me closely against his chest. The next thing I knew, I was being carried like a little child, up the stairs and into my room. Harry put me in the bed, and opened my wardrobe to pull out some pajamas, tossing them to me. He turned his back while I changed clumsily, and then he handed me a potion phial from the table beside the bed. A second one was still there. He laughed. “I think we may have been set up,” he said quietly, motioning to the second phial, which he uncorked and drank. I shrugged.

                “Pansy has been with Hermione for more than a month now. Now I guess we know what they’ve been plotting,” I replied. Harry sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

                “Are you okay?” He asked me, and I realized how pathetic I must look, drunk out of my mind and more vulnerable than I had felt in a very long time.  

                For the first time in my life, I answered the question honestly. “No. I’m not. Can you stay? I don’t think I want to be by myself at the moment.” I stared at my knees as I spoke, and felt more than saw him move closer. I leaned against the offered shoulder, and sagged backwards as his arms wrapped around me. All the fight in me was gone, defeated by entirely too much firewhiskey. Tears started flowing, and Harry spoke a soft incantation, silencing and warding the door. 

                “You saw?” I asked him, my face buried against his shoulder.

                “Yes.”

                “What did you see?” I asked. I didn’t know why I needed to know so badly, but I did.

                “Voldemort used you as a toy. He had his Death Eaters rape you for his pleasure. I watched you held against a wall by your father, used and thrown aside. I saw them break your bones and mend them just to do it again,” his voice was calm and even. I looked up at him and saw absolute fury burning in his eyes. “I saw you beg them for mercy only to be raped again and again, and then sent off to your rooms as if nothing had happened. I saw more than enough, Draco, to know that no one deserves that pain, Marked or not. You aren’t the only one who drank to that card, you know. There are some things that hurt so deeply, that they will never go away, only be pushed down and held in place, hoping they don’t surface too quickly, hoping that the next time you are with another person by your consent, that you don’t tense up and panic, and make an utter fool of yourself.”

                “I’ve never let myself be sober enough to care if it’s by consent or not,” I said softly, the words slipping out before I have a chance to stop myself.

                “Neither have I,” he replies.  We sit there together, two very drunk, very hurt little boys, curled up against one another in the middle of my bed. At some point, we fell asleep, and I woke to soft female voices.

                “I told you this would work,” I heard Pansy saying.

                “You were right, of course. So damn stubborn, the pair of them. Although it’s going to be a miracle if Draco doesn’t demand you wipe all memories involving him draped over Harry like a frightened kitten from everyone’s minds.”

                “Granger,” I snarl, “I am not, nor have I ever been, a frightened kitten. I was draped over Potter like a very, very drunk Slytherin under the influence of an insane amount of honesty serum.”

                “Well then, dear drunken Slytherin, said serum wore off quite a few hours ago. Could you explain to me why Harry is still holding you like a teddy bear?”

                “What is with the damned animals, Mione?” Harry hisses from behind me. “I’m holding him because I will damn well hold him if I want to. Now get out, the pair of you. Your thoroughly rigged game of spill all your darkest secrets worked wonderfully. I’ve been outed for being queer, having an uncle who thought me to be a punching bag, and having relatives who thought me excellent sexual relief. I think you’ve done more than enough for the moment. Now go away!”

                They scurried out of the room, Pansy’s heels tapping away at the stone floor as they went. It occurred to me to wonder briefly how they had gotten past the wards. Then I remembered that Pansy was probably the best curse breaker in the school. I had never seen a ward she couldn’t dismantle, and quickly at that. I rolled over to face him. “So,” I said, “Just how long do you intend to hold me?”

                “For as long as you’ll let me, Draco.”

                “You do realize I’m damaged goods, Potter,” I said, my defenses back in force now that I was sober and quite wide awake.

                “So am I, Draco. Perfect match, see. I’ll never grab you and hold you down. I’m never going to scare the shit out of you trying to fuck you against a wall.  I won’t ask for explanations when you cry in your sleep, and I will never, ever call you Pet.”

                The last word did it. Dolohov, who had been one of Voldemort’s most well endowed servants, had developed a habit of calling me “Pet,” as he fucked me so hard I would bleed for days. Sober, well aware of my surroundings, and without any regard for what he was going to think of me, I jumped up and ran for the bathroom, a hand clamped over my mouth as my body recoiled at the memory. I was retching by the time I got halfway across the bedroom, and dropped to hands and knees, vomiting on the floor. I flinched when I felt him put his hands on my shoulders, but calmed as he began to rub my back, soothing me as I continued to bring up waves of vomit.

                “Fuck, Draco. Totally not what I was trying to do,” he told me when I finished. I heard him cast a cleaning spell and the mess beneath me vanished, just as my elbows gave out and I crumpled onto the floor in a very undignified heap. I rolled onto my side and brought my knees to my chest, tears now streaming down my face as I shook with the panic brought on by the memories. He pulled me off the floor and into his lap, where he held me as he summoned a cool cloth and bathed my face, wiping away tears, sweat, and vomit that had clung to my chin as I heaved.

                I lay there in his arms, my breath coming in gasps. He scooted backwards until he was leaning against a wall, with me still held securely in his lap. He didn’t say a word, just held me, hands rubbing my shoulders and periodically drying the tears that simply would not stop pouring out of me. I don’t know how long I cried there on the floor of my room. When I was finally spent my body ached, my throat was raw, and my lungs burned. “Told you,” I whispered. “Damaged goods.”

                “You weren’t drunk enough last night to have not seen how many other people drank to the same cards we did. We’re all damaged, Draco. That’s what the war fucking did,” he countered, brushing the tangles from my hair with his fingers as he spoke. I didn’t have anything to say to that and just stayed still, amazed that his hands on me didn’t scare the hell out of me. I hadn’t been able to stand another person touching me without being drunk in I didn’t know how long.

                “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d react that badly,” he told me after a long while had passed. “I don’t really know what I’m trying to say. Just that I don’t care how damaged either of us is. Mione and Pansy were pretty heavy handed in their method, but it did drive it home pretty hard that we’ve been in some similar hells. Besides, I don’t know about you, but I damn well liked not waking up alone this morning.”

                I considered his words for a while before answering. “So what you’re saying, Potter, is that you don’t care that I cannot now, nor do I really think I will ever, be able to actually not panic during sex without being trashed out of my mind? Are you willing to share a bed with someone who wakes up screaming and puking five nights a week no matter how many sleeping potions I down? Because I need to know, now, if you are actually serious. I don’t take unnecessary risks, unlike certain crazy Gryffindors I might know. Every ancestor I have is probably rolling in their graves at this, but I actually feel safe with you, and I don’t think I ever have before.”

                I was beginning to wonder just how long that honesty serum of Granger’s was working. I could barely believe that I had spilled my soul to Harry, and then I remembered that even now, I was curled up safely in his arms. I was warm despite the chill of the stone floor and without the slightest urge to cringe away from his touch as he placed a hand on my chin, tilting it up as he kissed me.

                “That is what I was trying to tell you before, which I clearly fucked up royally. I’ll hold you while you puke, and I’ll pour the damn drinks if that’s what you want or need. I’ve taken all the crazy risks I’m willing to take for a couple of lifetimes at this point. So if you’ll have me, I’m yours,” he told me.

                “Mine,” I whispered, trying not to think about how absolutely pathetic I must look, curled in a tight little ball against him.

                “Let’s get you cleaned up properly,” Harry told me. Despite his cleaning spell, I knew that the odor of vomit was clinging to me. I nodded and stood on shaky legs before following him into the bathroom. He was running a warm bath, pulling a bottle of scented oil from the shelf. I recognized the scent of lavender. Once the bath was filled, he turned to me and I realized that I was still standing completely still, fully clothed and shaking just a little. “I’m going to go get a shower and find some clean clothes. I’ll meet you in the common room later,” he told me, clearly trying to give me some space, thinking that I must not want to take off my clothing in front of him.

                I shook my head slowly, trying to somehow convey to him without speaking that I did not want him to leave, did not want to be alone. I couldn’t convince myself to get any closer to the bath, to begin removing my clothes. I couldn’t explain even to myself why I was suddenly terrified. Images were flashing through my mind at a speed that made me dizzy. I had spent time in countless baths in my suite at the Manor, trying to soak away the evidence of another round of the Dark Lord’s entertainment, healing oils poured in so heavily that I would spend an hour in the shower afterward removing the sticky film. Mother could do nothing to protect me from my fate, but I knew that is was her doing that always had a warm, soothing bath ready for me when I was dismissed. Logically, I knew that Potter had no way of knowing what this gesture of kindness would dredge up for me. I couldn’t breathe, everything was closing in on me and my entire existence was reduced to sheer terror. I don’t see him moving towards me, but suddenly his face was inches from mine, his hands on my shoulders holding me steady.

                “Draco? Can you see me? You’re safe, Draco. Breathe for me. You’re having a panic attack. I’ve got you, everything’s okay.” I could hear him speaking, but the words were muffled, as though he were miles away and not right in front of me. Reflexively, I do as I am told, sucking in great, shaky gulps of air. The calm, far away voice continues coaching me, speaking nonsense words of comfort, reminding me to breathe, telling me that I am doing well. When my vision finally begins to clear, his calm face centers me, and I focus on staring into those green eyes, wishing for the first time in my life that I were not such a flawless Occlumens, that he might be able to see what was happening in my head.

                He was watching me intently, and somehow knew the moment I was back in control. His calming mantra ceased, and he tugged me gently forward into an embrace. “Looks like I’ve got a lot to learn,” he whispers in my ear. I nod, still half shocked that he hasn’t run screaming from the train wreck I’ve become. “Does this happen a lot? Or is it just when a stupid oaf tries too hard to take care of you and scares the shit out of you instead?” His voice is calm, without even a hint of annoyance at my display of weakness.

                “I take a potion before bed, at least if I’m not too drunk to remember. It keeps them from being so bad, but yeah, it happens a lot. I carry calming draughts with me. They make me feel like shit, but they work well enough. Still convinced you want to be with me? It’s been under 24 hours and you’ve carried my drunken arse to bed, cleaned up vomit, and had me totally lose it because you tried to be nice.”

                “I’m still here, aren’t I?” he asked me quietly. “Mione makes a really good calming draught. There’s less feeling stoned, and it’s just as effective. I’ll ask her for a few phials so you can try it and see if you prefer it. You’re an Occlumens, right? Do you know how to build a block? I can show you if not. Single image or memory, locked up tight so it won’t trigger a panic attack as easily.  Buys you about 30 seconds or so of rational thought before your subconscious takes over. It’s not 100% but it does keep me for going spare every time I see Andromeda Tonks. I don’t know if you’ve met her, but the woman looks exactly like Bellatrix, only she’s sane and not interested in murder as a hobby.”

                As Harry spoke, I could feel my knotted up muscles beginning to relax. He was running one hand up and down the middle of my back, and the touch was incredibly soothing. “Now, can I ask what scared you so I don’t do it again?”

                “Lavender oil. In the bath. The scent. Mother had the house elves give me a hot bath after, you know, and there was always a lot of lavender in the water. Other things too, healing herbs and oils and all that, but the lavender was the strongest scent. I know you were just trying to help me, and I actually usually don’t react that way to it. I think last night made a few too many things too fresh.”

                “Got it. No lavender oil in the bath without asking first. I seem to really be awful at this whole taking care of you thing. I’m sorry.”

                “But you didn’t leave when I freaked out. Thanks for talking me down. Do you know it usually takes me hours to calm down without a potion? Don’t be sorry for what isn’t your fault. I’ve just got some really screwed up associations with totally normal things.”

                “Would now be a bad time to tell you that it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a panic attack to get rid of me?” Harry asked. I smiled, grateful that he wasn’t going to pry into explanations or go for the pseudo therapeutic talk that Pansy was prone to if she happened to witness me panic over something.

                “Come on then, we both need showers,” he told me, pulling me along towards the shower. He let go of my hand for a moment and stripped out of his clothes, then waited patiently while I did the same, hands shaking and unable to pull my gaze from the floor. He seemed to understand that being touched, even by him, without clothing was terrifying. He kept his hands to himself as we stepped into the shower, dancing around me so that we never touched even in the close confines of the tiled stall. He didn’t say anything about the scars that were still prominent on my wrists and up my arms, nor did he mention the lash marks on my back. When I lifted my eyes to look at him briefly, I noticed that I was not the only one with considerably less than perfect skin. The arms that had held me bore evidence of a very violent attempt at ending his life. The scars crossed one another and I knew that the flesh must have been absolutely shredded by the blade he had used. I wondered how he had survived, and remembered the look that had passed between Harry and Neville.

                He looked at me then, and shrugged. “Turns out Nev is a very good healer, and a damn good caster of a full body bind. He caught me, healed the cuts, and kept me under a body bind until he decided I could be trusted again. I can throw off an i _mperius_ curse, but couldn’t do a thing against his spellwork. Full of surprises, that man.”

                “Don’t let Pansy catch you offing yourself, then, or you’ll think it was a garden party. She poured enough calming potions down my throat it’s a wonder they didn’t kill me instead. And she was furious, so no nice, gentle healing for me. _Levicorpus_ while she ranted and fixed the cuts. Told me if she was coming back here she wasn’t doing it alone and threatened to put me under a binding spell if I wouldn’t behave myself.”

                “Sounds like something Hermione would do,” he told me, turning off the taps and stepping out of the shower. We returned to the bedroom and dressed in silence, Harry borrowing clothing from me since he had not brought anything with him the night before. They had to be altered to fit, since I was considerably taller and his frame was a good bit more filled out than mine, but once that was done he looked quite fit in wool trousers and a soft green jumper.

                Showing up in the common room together got us a pair of approving looks from Pansy and Hermione, who bounded over to greet us before heading down to the great hall for lunch. There were surprisingly few odd looks as we all walked down to lunch together, and no one at the eighth year table looked twice when Harry and I sat side by side across from the girls. I picked at the food in front of me, knowing that I should eat something, knowing that I wasn’t interested, and hoping that no one would notice. Pansy was glaring at me, clearly displeased that nothing was actually entering my mouth. My stomach was still unsettled from the morning, and even though Harry had been wonderful and willing to take care of me, I wasn’t much interested in a repeat.

                I felt his hand in mine under the table, squeezing gently before pressing a small glass phial into my palm. I glanced down, recognizing the pale purple liquid as a nutrient potion. Neville smirked at us from across the table before tipping a phial of his own into his mouth. It seemed that I wasn’t the only one not interested in the meal after the hefty amount of alcohol and honesty serum the night before. I drank the contents, glaring back at Pansy when she raised her eyebrows at me.

                After the meal, we all trooped off to the library, weighed down by more homework than any person could possibly finish. Our professors all seemed intent on making sure that those of us who had signed on for a spare year of schooling would make up for everything we had missed out on learning in the year that the school had served as a Death Eater recruiting ground. It was probably for the best, as I remembered little of that year outside my own person hell. I shook my head, trying to clear away the thoughts that were intruding, knowing that if I thought about it in any detail I was going to be a mess.

                I tried to focus on the potions book in front of me, but the words weren’t making sense. I could feel the familiar tug of yet another panic attack, and reached into my robes for a calming potion. As I brought the phial to my lips, I felt a hand settling against the small of my back. I stiffened, my body reacting without giving me a chance to think about who the hand belonged to. He didn’t move, just continued to hold his hand against my back, a warm, reassuring presence centering me. I closed my eyes as the potion took effect, numbing me and making my vision slightly blurred.

                I still couldn’t focus on the text in front of me, but I knew I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself, either, which was good enough. I continued staring at the book for quite some time, until my classmates began gathering their things. I followed mutely to the great hall for dinner, choking down some soup but otherwise avoiding eating much. I knew from too much experience that it was going to be a rough night. I didn’t much want to spend it cleaning half digested food off the sheets.  

                Finnegan brought out some muggle ale in the common room after dinner, and I drank a few, playing a half hearted chess match against Blaise. Harry was off with Ron, being soundly beaten at his chess match. An annoyingly clingy part of my mind was upset that he wasn’t with me, wanted him to be by my side. When the clock chimed out midnight, Blaise and I gave up our game and I began the climb to my room. I was trying desperately not to be hurt that Harry had not offered to stay with me again. I was better than this. I had no reason to believe that he would want to stay with me and my crazy behavior a second night.

                I heard footsteps behind me, and practically melted when I felt him wrap his arms around my waist. “Want company?” he asked me. I did not want to nod, I was not going to admit my weakness, but suddenly I was speaking, without thought.

                “Please,” I heard myself saying.

                We didn’t talk as we get dressed for bed, and Harry silently turned down the covers and slipped under them, waiting while I went to take my potions before bed. It was a variation of a mood stabilizing potion that Severus had brewed for me during my horrible seventh year of school. It didn’t work perfectly, but it made me more sane than I was without it. I was more relieved than I was quite prepared to admit when Harry leaned back against the pillows and opened his arms, beckoning me to lay my head on his shoulder. I curled up beside him, closing my eyes and falling asleep, once more glad that he demanded no explanation.

                The sky visible through the window was still pitch black when I woke with a start. My heart was racing and I ached as though I had actually experienced the events of the nightmare again. Nausea swirled in my stomach, but having eaten very little at dinner, I was able to breathe through it and not retch. As I pulled myself to a sitting position, Harry woke up, immediately wrapping his arms around me. He waved his arm in the direction of the wardrobe and a dry shirt came floating to the bed. I could feel the tingle of a cleansing charm, and stayed very still as he stripped me out of the sweat soaked shirt and slipped the clean one over my head. I pressed myself against him as he held me, tears leaking from my eyes and soaking into his sleep clothes. He pulled me gently back onto the pillows, and held me until I was asleep again.

                The second time I woke up, it was to Harry shaking me by the shoulders, as he called my name sharply. I had barely opened my eyes when I vomited all over both of us, my entire body spasming with the force of the heaving. I heard him mutter a cleaning charm as he repositioned me so that the remaining contents of my stomach hit the floor rather than the bed. I was shaking uncontrollably when it was over, the image of Dolohov stepping away from me, blood dripping from his spent cock still seared into my awareness. I can’t form words, can’t do anything but sob there in those arms, calmly holding me close, wiping vomit and sweat from my face with a conjured cloth. I’m retching again, this time with nothing to come up but a bit of bile, and he doesn’t move me, just lets me retch with my head on his chest and casts cleaning charms every time something actually comes up. Everything hurts, and I am surprised that I don’t feel the far too familiar sensation of blood and semen seeping from me. The lingering illusion of torn flesh from the nightmare is that real.

                As the shaking finally begins to recede, I am able to look up into his eyes from my position in his arms. I can’t seem to hold myself up, and he is supporting my weight fully in a half upright pose. An explanation is somehow on my lips, and I tell him about the dream. I have to explain myself somehow, have to tell him why I disturbed his rest. I can’t stop myself from sharing my secret, telling him how much the dream physically hurts. He doesn’t speak as I unburden myself. I’ve never told a soul what the dreams do to me. I can see in his eyes that he is the one person who could possibly understand. He does understand, completely. His arms around me hold me close, but they don’t trap me. I know that the slightest indication that I want to be free and he will release me. Damn Hermione and Pansy for their stupid game. I’ve finally got the one person who could ever accept the disaster I am, and I have never been more afraid of losing someone in my life.

                “I’m not going anywhere, Draco. I’m right here,” he assures me, and I find myself trusting his words. I am so tired, and yet I know I can’t sleep. Tears are slipping down my face again, exhaustion dragging me beyond all reason. Harry just continues to hold me, and I feel the presence of his magic, enveloping and soothing me. It isn’t a calming charm, there is no numbness. But there is overwhelming safety, comfort. I settle into the embrace once more, closing my eyes and resting there, as he whispers soothing words, telling me over and that I don’t have to do this alone ever again. The relief those words grant me is overwhelming. Despite years of conditioning to trust no one, I trust him completely. I know that he will not let me suffer alone.


End file.
